


Incandescent

by wede_fic (frahulettaes)



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, The Phantom Menace - Fandom, The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-19
Updated: 2003-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:06:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24264805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frahulettaes/pseuds/wede_fic
Summary: So I was finally able to open an ancient drive I had from forever ago and found TREASURE. I have no idea where this story was going but it's just complete crack. Given my tendency to write slave fic or whump, I'm sure that would have been involved. From around 2005. I beg your forbearance.Also, I have no idea how to write the language of basic from star wars, that's a complete invention.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Obi-wan Kenobi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	Incandescent

Incandescent

fra

2005

"I'll ask this one more time, Agent Mulder. Where is the fugitive?" Skinner's voice was a tight low growl in the speaker of Mulder's phone. Mulder fought the urge to capitulate, cursed himself a blue streak, and focused firmly on the fugitive's sprawled form, limbs splayed, across his bed. 

He blew out a breath, slumped against the wall and grimaced. "Sir," he said. How to put this? "I, uh," he stuttered. Skinner interrupted him brusquely. 

"Agent Mulder, you have twenty four hours to produce the fugitive or I'll put out an APB. That is IF, there's not one already. Twenty. Four. Hours." His last words slurred with rage. 

"Yes, Si…" Mulder started and jerked the phone away at the sharp bang of Skinner slamming the phone down. Mulder sighed again. "Sir…I'll do that." He looked over the creamy skin of the fugitive's back and shook his head. "Just as soon as he decides to wake up." 

His next call was to Skully. He gave her a brief summery of his path to and from destruction right up to and including the location of his current hideaway. As he expected, she was reluctant but finally supportive. They agreed to meet the next day and rang off. 

All there was left to do was wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mulder was dreaming about a feather bed. It was deep and soft, the sheets fine and smooth and creamy and cool. He felt his body relax in a way it hadn't done in more nights than he could remember, surrendered himself to the cool embrace of the soft surrounding materials and sighed a deep, cleansing sigh. 

He turned in the dream, spread his legs and arched his back, rolled his head but the covers, previously so comforting now began to tangle and close around him, their weight and heft tangling his legs and arms, the downy pillow to clog his mouth and in his ear, Skinner's angry growl made promises of the most indecent kind. 

Fingers tickled over his shoulder, turned to the long delicate legs of a huge, pink spider and he screamed and jerked, spilling his sunflower seeds and putting an amazingly painful crick in his neck. The fugitive stood near his chair, looking slightly abashed, one hand clutching a handful of sheet to his belly, the other clenched softly by his side. 

Mulder and he stared at one another, Mulder's scrutiny a bleary, half-awake perusal, the fugitives a shy survey. The fugitive blinked first, his chin dipped and he looked furtively to the side, his long braid swaying across his chest, just brushing a dusky nipple. The boy's lips pursed then opened and Mulder thought he might say something. 

"Ah, sh'be despa ben ha'l, Obi-wan." The fugitive said.  
(Your in big trouble, Obi-wan.)

The fugitive looked away and down, the short stub of his ponytail, just visible over one ear, his hair scruffy and bed worn. Mulder tilted his head and caught the fugitive's eye.  
They were an indescribable color. Not blue and not green. But some vibrant variation, a clash of the two. 

Mulder reached out and touched, with finger tips, the long thin braid laying on the fugitives chest. The fugitive closed his eyes and looked pained. Looked like he had trouble containing the wave of emotion and whispered softly.

"Ah, des to bena be Qui-gon Jinn's padawan."  
(I am Padawan to Qui-gon Jinn.)

The statement, whatever it contained, cost the fugitive some of his control, Mulder could see the muscle over his jaw jump as the fugitive ground his teeth. 

The display tore at Mulder, the fugitive's pain echoing his own sense of pain and loss. He slid his fingers down the braid, skipped to the fugitive's arm and took hold of the loosely closed fist. The fingers opened, palm up and Mulder turned it, placed it on his own chest and said:

"Mulder." He had to bend forward slightly to catch the fugitive's eyes again. Mulder knew it would help immensely if the boy had a few words. "Mulder," he said again. "That's me. Mulder." Mulder took his other hand, slowly opened and placed it over what he assumed to be the boys heart and waited.

The fugitive rolled the sound around in his mouth. "Muhldur." Mulder nodded. "Muhldur." He said again. And then a smile bloomed on his face and he said, "Obi-wan." And patted Mulder's hand. "Obi-wan, Ah, des de puh den Mulder." 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty minutes later, Mulder and Obi-wan sat in the Howard Johnson's on Virginia, HW 8. Obi-wan looked around, took the menu and looked ruefully at the jumble of characters. He set it aside quietly and sat, hands in his lap, looking at Mulder. 

A moment later, Mulder set his menu down and met Obi-wan's eye. It took a minute for the penny to drop; Obi-wan couldn't read the menu. 

"Oh, Obi-wan, I'm sorry. Uh, here," he took the menu, "I'll just," he signaled the waitress, "order for us both, shall I?" He smiled but it was clear, Obi-wan had no idea what he was saying.

The waitress, fifty odd, bottle red and a few too many doughnuts, stopped at their table, snapped her gum and pushed the hornrims up the bridge of her nose. Her eyes lit on Obi-wan and she gave a low whistle.

"Well, hello gorgeous. What'll it be? Coffee, tea, me?" and she snorted an ugly laugh. Neither man said anything and her face fell into it's previous scowl. "Geeze, somebody die?" Again, neither moved. She looked back and forth and then at her pad and raised the pen. "I'm waitin'." She said.

Mulder ordered enough for both and the waitress collected the menus and thankfully went away. They looked at each other and Obi-wan blushed and looked down, focused, it seemed on his joined hands.


End file.
